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NEW  YORK 
ERDUTTON      =Sr     COMPANs 
,39.  WEST  TWENTY  THIRD  STREET 


TWILIGHT  LAND. 


•^jT'HE  day  is  done,  the  day  is  done, 
^"^  And  all  the  troubles  of  the  day! 
The  long  last  crimson  of  the  sun 

Is  melting  into  silver  gray. 
The  old  world  slowly  fades  from  view, 

Within  another  world  we  stand, 
And  all  is  strange  and  all  is  new, 

For  this,  for  this  is  Twilight-land. 


THE  TWILIGHT  HOUR. 

Children,  who  read  these  little  rhymes, 
Out  of  the  Twilight-land  sent  clear, 

There's  many  a  one  in  these  hurrying  times, 
Has  not  the  time,  like  you,  to  hear. 

But,  children,  this  is  your  hour  indeed; 

And  this  is  its  beauty,  this  its  power, 
That  all  you  love  and  that  all  you  need 

Comes  to  your  hearts  in  the  twilight  hour. 


This  is  the  hour  when  dreams  come  true, 
And  life  has  never  a  tear  or  care, 

When  those  you  have  lost  come  back  to  you, 
And  all  your  castles  are  strong  and  fair. 

Then,  children,  who  read,  and  I  who  write, — 
Shall  we  not  pray  with  all  our  power, 

That  whatever  we  lose  of  the  world's  delight, 
We  lose  not  the  peace  of  the  twilight  hour? 


A 


CONTENTS. 


TITLE  PAGE,  i. 


THE  MISGUIDED  LAMB,  21,23.     J&%y 


THE  OLD  PICTURE  BOOK,  48. 

THE  POET  AND  THE  PRINTER,  32,  33. 


BELL'S  DREAM,  10,  11,  14,  15. 


THE  POET  AND  THE     "^  S  p 
PRINTER,  32,  33.  4~ 

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i*e- 


BELL' S  DREAM,  10,  11,  14,  15. 

MINNIE'S  CALCULATIONS,  27. 


LONDON  RIVER,  17. 


THE  ABBEY  SWALLOWS,  19. 


SORROWS,  31 


r.ff£  7I//5G  UIDED  LAMB,  21,23. 

HARRY' S SOLILOQUY,  35. 


CONTENTS. 

THE  DEAD  RABBIT,  37. 


e 


NO  THANK  YOU,  TOM,  53. 


THE  UNAPPRECIATIVE  KITTEN,  39. 

^4  BUNCH  OF  FLOWERS,  55. 


/w 


THE  DONKEY  AND  THE  CHILD  (picture),  40.  | '--f 

THE  CHILDREN'S  SONG,  58.        P  B 


SUMMER  TIME  (picture),  41. 


CHRISTMAS  (picture),  57. 


7^E  G«"5  SOLILOQUY,  42. 


TOBY'S  LESSON,  44. 


r.#£  CHILDREN S  SONG,  59. 


^  .50  £/£#  OF  ^i9ZZ  K,  61 . 


£J,  SELINA'S  DESTINY,  46. 


777.fi  £AZ>,  63. 


7Y/E  LOBSTER  AND  THE  MAID,  49,  50,  51. 


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BELLS  DREAM. 

It  was  the  little  Isabel, 

Upon  the  sand  she  lay. 
The  summer  sun  struck  hotly  down, 

And  she  was  tired  of  play, 
And  down  she  sank  into  the  sea, 

Though  how,  she  could  not  say. — 

She  stood  within  a  dreadful  court, 

Beneath  the  rolling  tide, 
There  sate  a  sturgeon  as  a  judge. 

Two  lobsters  at  her  side; 
She  had  a  sort  of  vague  idea 

That  she  was  being  tried. 


And  then  the  jurymen  came  in, 

And,  as  the  clock  struck  ten, 
Rose  Sergeant  Shark  and  hitched  his  gown 

And  trifled  with  a  pen, 
Ahem — may't  please  your  Lordship. 

And  gentle  jurymen ! 

"The  counts  against  the  prisoner 

Before  you,  are  that  she 
Has  eaten  salmon  once  at  least, 

And  soles  most  constantly, 
Likewise  devoured  one  hundred  shrimps 

At  Margate  with  her  tea." 


J 


IO 


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"Call  witnesses  I" — An  oyster  rose, 
He  spoke  in  plaintive  tone, 

"Last  week  her  mother  bought  a  fish,' 
(He  scarce  could  check  a  moan,) — 

"He  was  a  dear  dear  friend  of  mine, 
His  weight  was  half  a  stone  I " 


"No  oysters,  ma'am?"  the  fishman  said, 
"No,  not  to-day  1"  said  she; 

"My  child  is  fond  of  salmon,  but 
Oysters  do  not  agree  1" 

The  fishman  wiped  a  salt  salt  tear, 
And  murmured  "Certainlyl" 

"Ahem- — but,"  interposed  the  judge, 
"How  do  you  know,"  said  he, 

"That  she  did  really  eat  the  fish?" 
"My  Lud,  it  so  must  be, 

Because  the  oysters,  I  submit, 
With  her  did  not  agree  1" 

"Besides,  besides,"  the  oyster  cried 

Half  in  an  injured  way, 
"The  oysters  in  that  Ashman's  shop 

My  relatives  were  they: 
They  heard  it  all,  they  wrote  to  me, 

The  letter  came  to-day  1" 


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'"Tis  only  hearsay  evidence," 
The  judge  remarked,  and  smiled, 

"  But  it  will  do  in  such  a  case, 
With  such  a  murd'rous  child. — 

Call  the  next  witness  1"  for  he  saw 
The  jury  getting  wild. 


^f 


And  then  uprose  a  little  shrimp: 

"I  am  the  last,"  said  he, 
"Of  what  was  once,  as  you  all  know, 

A  happy  familee! 
Without  a  care  we  leapt  and  danced 

All  in  the  merry  seal" 

"Alack  I  the  cruel  fisherman, 

He  caught  them  all  but  me; 
The  pris'ner  clapped  her  hands  and  yelled- 

I  heard  her — 'Shrimps  for  teal' 
And  then  went  home  and  ate  them  all 

As  fast  as  fast  could  be." 


14 


"Guilty,"  his  Lordship  said,  and  sighed, 

"A  verdict  sad  but  true: 
To  pass  the  sentence  of  the  court 

Is  all  I  have  to  do; 
It  is,  that  as  you've  fed  on  us, 

Why,  we  must  feed  on  you 

She  tried  to  speak;  she  could  not  speak; 

She  tried  to  run,  but  no  1 
The  lobsters  seized  and  hurried  her 

Off  to  the  cells  below, 
And  each  pulled  out  a  carving  knife, 

And  waved  it  to  and  fro. 


But  harkl  there  comes  a  voice  she  knows, 
And  some  one  takes  her  hand; 

She  finds  herself  at  home  again 
Upon  the  yellow  sand; 

But  how  she  got  there  safe  and  sound, 
She  cannot  understand. 


And  many  a  morning  afterwards, 
Whene'er  she  sees  the  tide, 

She  still  retains  that  vague  idea 
That  she  is  being  tried,     ^rf 

And  seems  to  see  the  sturgeon  judg' 
And  the  lobsters  at  Her  side. 


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15 


/7cw .' flow!   0  (ctjctoT)  river  , 

Ju$t  Like  life  witl)  tljy  ri^e,  qqcL  fall^; 
^icrtys  aipi.  te.arj  ii)  tpydeart,  forever, 
J^eace.  ay&rejt  a{  $}£  eyd  of  aft. 


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16 


LONDON  RIVER. 

•  All  day  long  in  the  scorching  weather, 
All  day  long  in  the  winter  gloom, 

Brother  and  sister  stand  together, 

She  with  her  flowers  and  he  with  his  broom. 

And  the  folks  go  on  over  London  river, 
Poor  and  wealthy,  busy  and  wise, 

Will  nobody  see  those  white  lips  quiver ? 
Will  nobody  stop  for  those  pleading  eyes? 


The  old  bridge  echoes  the  ceaseless  thunder 
Of  crowds  that  gather  and  stream  along, 

And  the  stranger  child  shrinks  back  in  wonder, 
She  cannot  sing  in  that  hurrying  throng. 

She  thinks  of  her  home  across  the  ocean, 

With  its  deep  blue  sky  and  its  vineyards  green; 

But  who  will  heed,  in  that  wild  commotion, 
The  pitiful  sound  of  her  tambourine? 


Flow  I  flow  I  O  London  river, 

Carry  thy  ships  from  the  migthy  town, 
Smiles  and  tears  in  thy  heart  for  ever, 

Smiles  and  tears  as  thou  hurriest  down  I 


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THE  ABBEY  SWALLOWS. 

The  year  was  late,  the  days  were  cold, 

The  swallows  long  had  gone, 
Two  only  by  the  Abbey  door 

Still  doubting  lingered  on. 
They  hovered,  wheeling  round  and  round, 

Beside  the  porch  in  fear, 
And  as  they  lighted  on  the  ground 

A  little  child  drew  near. 

Close  to  her  feet  the  swallows  came, 

And  twittered  gay  and  glad, 
She  broke  her  little  crust  for  them — 

It  was  the  last  she  had. 
Then  blithe  and  gay  they  flew  away, 

She  to  her  corner  crept; 
There  was  no  one  now  in  the  world  to  care 

Whether  she  smiled  or  wept. 

With  summer  back  the  swallows  came, 

Flew  to  the  Abbey  door, 
But  no  one  stood  to  watch  for  them, 

The  child  was  there  no  more. 
She  had  gone  away  on  the  angels'  wings, 
No  more  in  the  world  to  roam, 
.j  o'For  the  love  that  she  gave  those  helpless  things, 
^V   J\       She  has  found  in  her  Heavenly  Home. 


19 


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20 


THE  MISGUIDED  LAMB. 

There  were  two  little  girls  who  had 
A  fond  devoted  Mammy, 

But  spent  their  warm  affections  on 
A  most  ungrateful  lamb-y, 

For  spite  of  all  the  care  of  Ruth, 
And  all  the  love  of  Mary, 

This  lamb  was  a  misguided  youth, 
Most  crooked  and  contrary. 


On  Sunday,  when  they  went  to  church, 
And  wished  to  be  without  him, 

He  used  to  wander  up  the  aisle, 
And  stop  and  stare  about  him. 

And  when  the  parson  and  the  clerk 
Looked  stern  at  Ruth  and  Mary, 

They  wished  they  did  not  own  a  lamb 
So  crooked  and  contrary. 

He  used  to  bleat  most  piteously 
When  they  came  up  the  mountain, 

As  if  to  say  "I  am  so  dry, 

I'd  like  to  drink  the  fountain!" 


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But  when  they  drew  a  pail  for  him, 

(You  really  scarce  might  think  it,) 
.  He  wagged  his  tail  and  winked  his  eye,    , 
And  simply  wouldn't  drink  it. 


It  chanced  one  day  they  went  to  pay 

Their  morning  salutation, 
But  though  they  called,  he  never  came, 

Much  to  their  consternation. 


They  sought  him  high,  they  sought  him  low, 
But  nol  they  could  not  find  him, 

They  said  "He  will,  he  must  come  back, 
And  bring  his  tail  behind  him." 


They  sought  him  up  the  windy  cliff, 
And  down  the  ferny  hollow, 

And  still  they  said  "He  can't  be  lost!" 
And  still  their  feet  did  follow. 

Alas!  they  found  him  dead  at  last — 
Alas!  for  Ruth  and  Mary: 


But  then,  you  see,  he  always  was 


So  crooked  and  contrary. 


-J<*S; 


' 


21 


24 


« — 


25 


MINNIES  CALCULATIONS. 

Said  Minnie  with  pride, 

As  she  counted  her  chicks, 
"When  they're  grown  a  bit  bigger, 

I'll  sell  all  the  six. 
And  as  each  ought  to  fetch 

At  the  least  half  a  crown, 
I  can  quite  well  afford  me 

A  new  Sunday  gown." 

Alas  for  our  castles! 

How  soon  they  all  slipl 
The  cat  ate  one  chicken, 

And  one  got  the  pip; 
And  while  mourning  their  brother 

And  sister,  the  four 
Were  crushed  by  the  carter-boy 

Slamming  the  door.  , 

Don't  reckon  your  chickens 

Before  they  are  hatched, 
Is  a  proverb  some  fancy 

Can  never  be  matched. 
But  I  think  that  this  other 

Deserves  to  be  told: — 
Don't  count  on  their  value 

Until  they  are  sold. 


26 


4 


&■ 


DREAMS. 

Sometimes,  beneath  the  brightest  skies, 
The  children  pause  amid  their  play. 
With  parted  lips  and  earnest  eyes 
In  silence  looking  far  away. 

may  not  know,  we  cannot  see 
The  wonder-world  whereon  they  gaze ; 

ven  grant,  whate'er  their  dreams  may  be 
They  find  them  true  in  after  days! 
Dreaming  sit  the  children, 

Pausing  in  their  play, 
Dreaming  of  what  is,  ah!  so  sweet 
Because,  because  so  far  away. 


And  we  too  have  our  dreams,  our  own, 

Amid  the  rush  and  toil  of  life, 
Our  dreams  of  days  and  things  long  flown 
That  come  like  peace  comes,  after  strife. 
Old  hands  we  feel,  old  eyes  we  see, 
Within  our  ears  old  voices  ring; 
They  are  but  dreams,  maybe,  maybe, 
But  oh!  the  blessing  that  they  bring. 
Dreaming  like  the  children, 

We  dream  from  day  to  day, 
Dreaming  of  what  is,  ah!  so  sweet 
Because,  because  so  far  away. 


28 


SORROWS. 


There  are  sorrows,  little  children, 

That  you  cannot  understand, 
As  you  watch  our  tears  in  wonder, 

As  you  take  us  by  the  hand. 
There  are  sorrows,  little  children, 

You  cannot  bear  them  yet, 
But  you  nestle  close  beside  us, 

And  you  help  us  to  forget. 
You  comfort  us,  my  darlings, 

And  yet  you  know  not  how; 
You  show  us  Heaven  is  near  us, 

Though  our  tears  may  blind  us  now. 

There  are  little  ones  in  Heaven, 

Gone  a  little  while  before, 
And  they  stand,  to  watch  us  coming, 

Beside  the  golden  door. 
There  are  little  ones  in  Heaven, 

They  are  calling  you  and  me, 
When  our  hearts  have  grown  forgetful. 

And  our  feet  would  wayward  be. 
We  can  hear  them,  if  we  listen, 

We  may  meet  them  all  one  day, 
When  our  tears  shall  fall  no  longer, 

And  the  shadows  flee  away  I 


30 


THE  POET  AND  THE  PRINTER 


Two  little  girls — I  met  them  once, 
But  quite  forget  their  name, 

You'll  find  them  on  page  twenty-four 
The  printer  is  to  blame, 

The  picture  ought  to  face  the  w  ords, 
But  there!  it's  all  the  same. 


Two  little  girls,  as  I  remarked, 

They  left  their  snug  abode, 
Because  they  thought  their  dinner  must 

Taste  better  on  the  road, 
For  forks  and  spoons  and  tablecloths, 

They  really  incommode. 

The  ditch  is  far,  far  pleasanter 
Than  any  high-backed  chair, 

I'm  sure  you  will  agree  with  them 
If  you'll  observe  them  there; 

And  when  they'd  finished,  off  they  trudged 
All  thro'  the  summer  air. 

At  last  they  reached  a  bridge  (the  bridge 

You'll  see  on  twenty-five), 
And  on  the  bridge  those  little  girls 

Are  hanging  all  alive; 
It's  marvellous  how  hanging 

Will  make  some  children  thrive! 


They  pondered  which  was  best,  to  be 

Upon  the  bridge  or  under, 
And  what  they'd  do  suppose  the  bridge 

Were  just  to  split  asunder, 
But  as  they  couldn't  settle  that, 

They  gave  it  up  in  wonder. 

n    Now,  had  these  children  dined  at  home, 

I  think  I  may  explain, 
We  never  should  have  seen  them  here 

At  dinner  in  the  lane: 
Unless  when  they  had  dined  at  home 

They'd  dined  out  here  again. 

And  had  the  bridge  been  never  built 

I  think  it  must  appear 
These  children  ne'er  had  found  it,  though 

They'd  sought  from  year  to  year; 
So,  how  they  could  have  hung  on  it, 

Is  not  exactly  clear. 

And  had  I  said,  when  I  was  asked, 

"I  cannot  sing  in  winter, 
I've  run  my  throat  against  a  door, 

And  spiked  it  with  a  splinter;" — 
It  would  have  put  the  artists  out, 

And  much  annoyed  the  printer  1 


33 


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34 


HARRY'S  SOLILOQUY. 

"There's  ne'er  a  kitty  so  sweet  and  so  pretty, 

'  There's  ne'er  such  a  kitty  I've  seen  in  my  life ; 
"I'm  certain,"  said  Harry,  "if  ever  I  marry, 
I  shall  only  want  kitty,  a  house,  and  a  wife." 


"This  dear  old  barrow  is  nice,  though  it's  narrow, 
It  will  do  very  well  to  take  us  about ; 

For  my  income  of  course  is  too  small  to  keep  horses, 
But  that  doesn't  matter,  we'll  manage  without." 

But  alas  I  for  the  dreams  of  the  barrow  and  kitten, 
His  father's  old  pointer  came  back  from  the  wood 

And  the  poor  little  pussy  with  terror  was  smitten, 
And  scampered  away  as  fast  as  she  could. 


And  the  gardener  returned  from  his  evening  ablution, 
And  trundled  the  barrow  straight  off  to  the  shed; 

And  Mary  arrived,  and  with  stern  resolution 
Just  carried  off  Harry  and  put  him  to  bed. 


35 


THE  DEAD  RABBIT. 

Weep  on  I  he  has  a  happier  fate 

Than  many  such  as  he, 
To  lie  there  in  the  gentle  snow, 

And  die  so  quietly : 
To  feel  your  warm  tears  fall  on  him, 

To  feel  your  tender  hands. 
You  know  he  feels  as  well  as  you, 
You  know  he  understands. 

He  might  have  now  been  dying 

Shot  by  a  cruel  gun; 
With  panting  heart  and  glazing  eye 

For  life  he  might  have  run. 
E'en  now  he  might  be  hanging 

Above  your  larder  shelves, 
And  you,  you  might,  indeed  you  might, 

Have  eaten  him  yourselves. 


Weep  onl  you  will  not  better  it; 

Or  change  the  world's  old  way, 
For  men  will  hunt  and  course  and  shoot, 

Though  you  should  weep  for  aye. 
Weep  onl  be  not  ashamed  of  it, 

You'll  own  in  after  years, 
That  you  yourselves,  if  not  the  world, 

Are  better  for  your  tears. 


37 


THE  UN  APPRECIATIVE  KITTEN. 

"Did  e'er  you  see  a  flow'r  like  that, 

So  exquisitely  pretty?" 
Said  Mabel  to  her  Kitty-cat; 

But  not  a  word  said  Kitty. 


\     Perhaps  it  was  in  her  delight 

Mabel  contrived  to  squeeze  her, 
For  though  Kit  stared  with  all  her  might, 
The  sunflow'r  did  not  please  her. 

"Well,  well,  why  don't  you  answer  me? 

Why  don't  you  say  it's  pretty?" 
But  still  she  could  or  would  not  see, — 

She  was  perverse,  was  Kitty. 

"Sweet  mistress,  pray  restrainyour  ire 

Said  Kit  in  trepidation; 
"Why  must  I  say  that  I  admire, 

When  I've  no  admiration?" 

"Don't  ask  me  that,  you  stupid  cat," 

Said  Mabel  in  a  passion; 
"You  must,  you  shall  admire, — because 

Because  it  is  the  fashion  1" 


39 


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7y/.£  C^Z'S  SOLILOQUY. 

Am  open  cage,  some  feathers  fair, 

Two  little  maidens  crying, 
And  Pussy  seated  on  a  chair, 

The  mournful  scene  espying. 

Tear  after  tear  rolls  down  each  cheek. 

Sob  after  sob  arises, 
While  Puss,  as  well  as  she  can  speak, 

Calmly  soliloquises  1 

"If  they  would  keep  a  bird  in  cage, 
They  should  not  leave  it  undone ; 

For  that's  the  tale  in  every  jail 
From  Panama  to  London. 


Their  ducks  and  chicks  they  pet  and  feed, 

And  yet  I've  often  noted, 
They  eat  the  very  birds  indeed 

To  which  thev're  most  devoted. 


Then  wherefore  look  so  cross  and  sour, 
Why  make  this  sad  commotion: 

Why  should  not  I  a  bird  devour 
For  whom  I've  no  devotion!" 


42 


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TOBY'S  LESSON. 

A  was  the  Alphabet  Toby  must  say, 
B  was  the  Birch  that  made  him  obey, 
C  was  the  Collar  he  wore  to  explain, 
D  the  Disgrace  he  had  got  in  again, 
E  was  the  Evening  when  Toby  was  gay, 
F  was  the  Fate  that  befell  him  next  day, 
G  was  the  Grave  look  on  Muriel's  face, 
H  was  the  Hist'ry  of  Toby's  disgrace:  — 
I  was  the  Ink  that  he  spilt  on  the  floor, 
J  was  his  Jump  to  get  out  of  the  door, 
K  was  the  Kick  that  he  got  as  he  past, 
L  was  the  Lesson  —  alas  I  not  the  last, 
M  was  the  Milk  that  he  stole  from  the  cat, 
N  was  the  Nap  that  he  took  after  that, 
O  was  the  Owl  that  gave  him  a  fright, 
P  was  the  Poaching  he  went  for  at  night, 
Q  was  his  Queer  look  all  dirty  and  worn, 
R  his  Return  somewhat  early  next  morn, 
S  was  his  Smile  that  would  not  avail, 
T  was  the  Twitch  of  his  terrified  tail, 
U  "Understand  me"  he  tried  to  assert, 
V,  his  Vain  effort  his  fate  to  avert, 
W,  the  Whip  which  he  saw  held  on  high, 
X,  the  Xpression  that  rose  in  his  eye, 
Y  was  his  Yap  when  at  last  the  whip  fell, 
Z  (like  his  feelings)  I'll  leave  you  to  tell. 


44 


45 


SELINA'S  DESTINY. 

Selina  Sophonisba  Ann 
Had  a  soul  above  a  frying-pan, 
And,  when  her  mother  to  cook  began, 
She  took  to  her  heels  and  away  she  ran 


Selina  Sophonisba,  she 
Stood  all  day  long  'neath  the  apple  tree, 
Till  she  became  most  dreadfully 
What  is  commonly  called  hungansr! 

Selina  Sophonisba  Ann 
About  her  dinner  to  think  began, 
But  the  voice  of  a  little  Fairy-man 
Said,  "Don't  go  back  to  the  frying  pan, 


"Stay  here  beneath  the  apple  tree, 

And  you  will  find  your  destine, 

A  prince  is  coming  of  high  degree, 

Who  will  make  you  queen  of  his  fair  country." 

The  prince  came  not :  and  the  moments  ran, 
And  her  thoughts  to  supper  to  turn  began, 
So  Selina  Sophonisba  Ann 
Went  gladly  back  to  the  frying-pan. 


46 


47 


THE  OLD  PICTURE-BOOK. 

It  was  an  old  old  picture-book, 

Full  of  the  merriest  tales 
Of  mermaids  fair  with  golden  hair, 

And  ships  with  silver  sails  \ 
Of  fairies  light  who  danced  at  night, 
Of  goblins  on  the  stair, 
\.~-j  And  many  a  knight  in  armour  bright 
Y\  ho  fought  for  ladies  fair. 

It  was  only  a  battered  picture-book, 
But  'twas  worth  its  weight  in  gold, 
For  it  spoke  to  the  children's  tender  hearts, 
And  its  tales  were  never  old. 


It  is  an  old  old  picture-book, 

Battered,  and  torn,  and  brown; 
But  why  does  the  mother  sit  and  sigh? 

Why  do  her  tears  run  down? 
She  listens  through  the  long  long  evesj 

She  waits  for  the  opening  door, 
But  the  little  hands  that  turned  the  leav 
Will  turn  them  again  no  more. 
It  is  only  a  battered  picture-book 

But  she  cannot  lay  it  by, 
For  hearts  may  change,  but  a  mother's  love 
Is  a  love  that  cannot  die! 


>3>  ~k?-& 

48 


THE  LOBSTER  AND  THE  MAID. 

He  was  a  gentle  lobster, 

(The  boats  had  just  come  in,) 

He  did  not  love  the  fishermen, 
He  could  not  stand  their  din; 

And  so  he  quietly  stole  off, 
As  if  it  were  no  sin. 

She  was  a  little  maiden, 

He  met  her  on  the  sand, 
"And  how  d'you  dor"  the  lobster  said 

"Why  don't  you  give  your  hand?" 
For  why  she  edged  away  from  him 

He  could  not  understand. 

"Excuse  me,  Sir,"  the  maiden  said, 
"Excuse  me,  if  you  please," 

And  put  her  hands  behind  her  back, 
And  doubled  up  her  knees, 

"I  always  thought  that  lobsters  were 
A  little  apt  to  squeeze." 


49 


?^* 


"Your  ignorance,"  the  lobster  said, 

"Is  natural,  I  fear, 
Such  scandal  is  a  shame,"  he  sobbed, 

"It  is  not  true,  my  dear!" 
And  with  his  pocket-handkerchief 

He  wiped  away  a  tear. 

So  out  she  put  her  little  hand, 
As  though  she  feared  him  not, 

When  some  one  grabbed  him  suddenly 
And  put  him  in  a  pot, 

With  water  which  I  think  he  found 
Uncomfortably  hot. 

It  may  have  been  the  water  made 
The  blood  flow  to  his  head, 

It  may  have  been  that  dreadful  fib 
Lay  on  his  soul  like  lead: 

This  much  is  true, — he  went  in  gray, 
And  came  out  very  red. 


<2S^ 


51 


NO  THANK  YOU,  TOM. 

They  met,  when  they  were  girl  and  boy, 

Going  to  school  one  day, 
And."Wont  you  take  my  peg-top,  dear?" 

Was  all  that  he  could  say. 
She  bit  her  little  pinafore, 

Close  to  his  side  she  came, 
She  whispered  "Nol  no,  thank  you  Tom,' 

But  took  it  all  the  same. 


They  met  one  day  the  selfsame  way, 

When  ten  swift  years  had  flown ; 
He  said,  "I've  nothing  but  my  heart, 

But  that  is  yours  alone." 
"And  won't  you  take  my  heart?"  he  said, 

And  called  her  by  her  name; 
She  blushed  and  said  "No,  thank  you,  Tom, 

But  took  it  all  the  same. 

And  twenty,  thirty,  forty  years 

Have  brought  them  care  and  joy, 
She  has  the  little  peg-top  still 

He  gave  her  when  a  boy. 
"I've  had  no  wealth,  sweet  wife,"  says  he, 

"I've  never  brought  you  fame:" 
She  whispers  "Nol  no,  thank  you,  Tom! 

You've  loved  me  all  the  samel" 


S3 


54 


A  BUNCH  OF  FLOWERS. 

It  was  only  a  bunch  of  flow'rets  wild, 

Gathered  by  children  one  morning  fair; 
And  it  went  away  in  the  twilight  gray 
To  the  mighty  city's  din  and  glare. 
And  the  great  grand  flow'rs  in  the  market  smiled 
At  the  little  bunch  of  flow'rets  wild; 
\i    And  the  crowding  passers  had  but  a  care 
For  the  many  flow'rs  that  were  rich  and  rare. 

A  mother  stopt  in  the  market  place, 

She  saw  the  flow'rets  shining  there, 
And  she  thought  of  her  child,  with  his  wan,  thin  face, 

Pining  all  day  in  the  London  square. 
She  left  those  lordly,  blazing  flow'rs, 
She  thought  of  her  far-off  childhood  hours; 
She  took  that  bunch  of  flow'rets  wild — 
Her  dearest  gift  to  her  crippled  child. 

And  she  spoke  to  him  of  the  thousand  ones 

Who  toiled  in  the  city  hour  by  hour, 
Who  never  had  seen  the  country  suns, 

And  never  had  plucked  a  country  flow'r. 
And  a  new  light  shone  in  his  mournful  eyes, 
He  hushed  his  sad,  complaining  cries; 
For  that  little  bunch  of  flow'rets  wild 
Had  changed  the  life  of  the  crippled  child. 


55 


56 


57 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOXG 


What  is  the  song  the  children  hear, 
O  pealing  bells,  O  Christmas  bells, 
Echoing  high  and  low, 
When  skies  are  dark  and  winds  are  drear, 
What  is  the  song  the  children  hear 
Across  the  winter  snow: 

Christ  is  born  (the  joy-bells  ring) 
Christ  is  born  to  be  your  King, 
Christ  has  come  from  Heaven  to  br 
Peace  to  earth  below. 


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What  is  the  song  the  children  sing, 
A  carol  sweet  all  hearts  to  greet, 
Good  news  for  high  and  low: 
What  is  the  news  the  children  bring, 
What  is  the  song  the  children  sing 

As  through  the  streets  they  go: 

Christ  is  born  (the  children  sing), 
Christ  is  born  to  be  our  King, 
Christ  has  come  from  Heaven  to  bring 
Peace  to  earth  below. 


58 


59 


A  BOUGH  OF  HOLLY., 


He  sat  on  Christmas  morn  alone, 

No  friend  to  bid  him  cheer; 
He  missed  them  not,  though  all  were  gone, 

Who  loved  him  yester-year. 
And  gaily  rang  the  Christmas  bells, 

Their  wondrous  tale  of  old; 
He  heard  no  meaning  in  their  sound, 
'  He  sate  and  hugged  his  gold. 


He  watched  the  happy  folks  go  by, 

He  scowled  to  see  them  glad, 
And  then  a  little  maid  drew  nigh, 

A  holly  bough  she  had.' 
She  lifts  her  pleading  face  to  him, 

She  begs  in  accents  wild : 
What  is  it  makes  his  eyes  grow  dim: 

Why  does  he  call  the  child? — • 

He  seems  to  see  his  mother's  face, 

Who  died  long  years  ago, 
And  the  holly  bough  he  knelt  to  place 

Upon  her  grave  of  snow. 
He  listened  to  the  Christmas  bells, 

He  felt  their  meaning  then; 
Peace  upon  earth,  and  in  his  heart 

Peace  and  good- will  to  men! 


60 


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THE  END. 

The  old  milestone  is  reached  at  last, 
And  night  will  be  upon  us  soon; 

The  western  light  is  changing  fast, 
And  slowly  climbs  the  crescent  moon. 


The  path  that  we  have  trod  erewhile 
Stretches  behind  us,  growing  gray, 

And  here  we  stand  beside  the  stile 
That  ends  our  journey  for  to-day. 


Our  twilight  talks  have  gone  so  fast, 
Like  all  things  glad,  it  so  must  be; 

The  old  milestone  is  reached  at  last, 
That  means  good-bye  for  you  and  me. 

But  we  will  have  no  mournful  chimes, 
Sweet  children,  no,  we  shall  not  part; 

For  while  you  listen  to  my  rhymes, 
You  cannot  ever  leave  my  heart! 


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